


Anit's Role-Play Adventures

by TheGreatLibraryFangirl (Mazeem)



Series: Kink and Bone [9]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Caning, Corporal Punishment, D/s, Domme Khalila, F/F, F/M, Impact Play, Masochism, Roleplay, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazeem/pseuds/TheGreatLibraryFangirl
Summary: Vague successor to my fic 'Negotiations". Khalila and Dario set about making their new play partner's fantasies come true.Chapter 1: Teacher/student roleplay





	Anit's Role-Play Adventures

**Author's Note:**

> This is shorter than I might have liked, but hey that's what happens when you write most of the action all in one go and fail at editing.

Pros of playing with influential Scholars; when Anit had suggested an idea she wanted to try out, no-one could deny Khalila booking out one of the university rooms for a few hours under a strict ‘do not disturb’.

Anit inhaled and exhaled deeply, and focused on the scene stretching ahead of her. 

She knocked on the door of the classroom, and when there was no answer, opened it. 

She laughed at the sight of Dario kicking his heels at a desk. He saw her and pulled a face.

“Of course _you’ve _got detention.” 

She sauntered up to him. They were both dressed in the kinds of clothes Anit had worn to school in her childhood. (She’d had to give Khalila a shopping list, as neither Khalila nor Dario had experienced much traditional schooling.)

“I always have detention.” She sat on the edge of his desk. “What did you do this time?”

He shrugged. “It’s not my fault the teacher can’t spell. I just pointed out the mistakes.”

She trailed her fingers up his arm. “Only you could get into trouble for being too clever.” They’d had to plan Dario’s participation carefully; turns out he was positively stuffed full of triggers to do with being punished by his tutors as a child. She brushed Dario’s parted lips with her thumb, and watched his tongue twitch. “Can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?”

He scowled. “You should treat me with more respect. I’m older than you.”

“I don’t treat anyone with respect.” She swung her leg up high so that she could straddle the desk, facing Dario. Her skirt was short and had ridden most of the way up her thighs, and although she was wearing dark stockings and underwear, Dario immediately stared between her legs. She grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss. 

“Anit!” he protested. “The headmistress will be here soon!” He cast a nervous look towards the door. 

“So? I don’t care.” She grabbed his hand and pulled it up towards the warmth between her legs. He stroked her half-heartedly through her underwear, looking over his shoulders all the time. She rolled her eyes, and dragged his head back to face her by the hair. That got a genuine aroused reaction, she noticed with silent amusement. 

“Anit!” It was a flat-out whine this time. “We’ll get caught!”

“Oh, shut up. You don’t fool me. Everyone knows you’re the school slut. Off in dark corners with anyone who’ll have you.” She pushed the knot of his tie hard up into his throat. 

His eyes were wide and dark. He licked his lips. “Yeah … well … if I’m the slut, what does that make _you_?”

She laughed and kissed him again, enjoying the way he was already sliding into pliancy. 

Then the door opened and a cold, fizzing mixture of excitement and genuine fright made her skin crawl all the way down to her hands. 

“What on earth are you doing?” Khalila’s voice was icy. 

“Nothing, headmistress!” Dario blurted, pushing at Anit. She swung her legs back over Dario’s head, stood up without bothering to tug down her skirt, and turned to face Khalila with a smirk on her face. 

“Afternoon, headmistress!”

It was actually quite hard to hold that confident expression, because oh dear, Khalila looked magnificent and terrifying. She was dressed all in black, and she’d done something clever with make-up to make her face look sharper, make herself look older. Anit was pretty sure she was wearing heels, too, because she looked taller. Her demeanour dripped with disdain for the two errant students in front of her. 

She was also carrying a stiff leather tawse under her arm. Just looking at it made Anit’s cunt contract and moisten.

The cold, dagger-like stare continued until Anit felt her smirk beginning to slide away. At that sign of weakness, Khalila swept further into the room, and dropped the two heavy textbooks she was carrying onto ‘her’ desk at the front of the room. They made a shockingly loud bang, and Anit twitched despite herself. 

“I repeat, what on earth do you think you were doing?”

Anit shrugged. “You shouldn’t have been late, should you?” She leaned back on Dario’s desk with both hands and thrust her tits out against the too-tight shirt. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, and her nipples were clearly visible. Khalila’s eyes drifted to them briefly. Her natural aesthetic interest, or the sexual attraction she was acting out as part of the scene? Anit wasn’t sure, and that was exciting too. 

“Do you have no control over yourself, you stupid girl?”

A wave of arousal quivered over Anit at that, and she fought the urge to try and get Khalila to escalate the scene. 

“I’m _always _in control of myself, headmistress.” She put her hands on her hips. “Unlike him. There’s reason he’s not standing up, you know, and it’s not because he’s being rude.” She laughed.

“Fuck off, Anit.” 

“Santiago!” Khalila came out from behind her desk, the tawse ready to use in her hand. “For that disgusting language, you can take your strap first.”

“Oh! That’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair,” Anit said in a mocking tone. “Relax, you pussy. You’re older than me. You shouldn’t be scared of a stupid bit of leather.”

“That’s enough, Anit.” 

Anit rolled her eyes and wandered away to sit on a different desk and watch.

“Stand up.”

From where she was sat, Anit could see Dario reach into his pocket to tuck himself into his waistband before getting to his feet. 

“Five strokes for your insubordination in class. Five more for besmirching school property with filthy activity.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dario mumbled resentfully. “It was her.”

“Would you _like_ another five for that back-chat?”

He shook his head, and stretched out his hand. Khalila reached out to tug his shirtsleeve up higher; a transparent pretence for some comforting physical contact. 

Dario’s wince as the strapping started was real, even though Khalila was hitting softly. He wasn’t averse to pain in sexual scenarios, to say the least, but this scene was very much not his thing. 

Anit reminded herself of just how badly she’d need to spoil him later to say thank you. 

“Ten. Good. Now, go and stand in the corner until I’m finished.” Khalila’s voice was harsh but her hands were gentle as she folded Dario’s reddened hand closed and lowered it to his side.

“Thank you, headmistress.” Off he went. 

Khalila rounded on Anit, and all that softness was gone. “Come here, child. Right now.”

Ani pressed herself back against the desk. “Well, _someone’s _annoyed.”

“You have always been a corrupting influence, Anit, but this sort of behaviour is a new low! I’m sure your father will be very disappointed in you.”

Anit snorted. “My father doesn’t give a shit what you think, and I’m not scared of him anyway. _And_ he hits harder than you.” 

Khalila’s eyes narrowed, and she made a wordless ‘come here’ gesture. Challenge issued. Anit didn’t hide her grin, or her swagger as she approached. 

“Hand out.”

Anit frowned. That wasn’t exactly what they’d agreed. Oh well. Khalila did enjoy improvising. So she rolled her eyes and stuck her hand out with her other hand supporting it. “Get on with it.”

She forced herself to yawn as the two-pronged leather strap laid hot, stinging lines on her palm. After twenty sharp strikes, Khalila laid the tawse down on the desk.

“I should have known that such a terrible, stubborn child would need harsher treatment. Bend over.”

Anit didn’t grin, but it was a close-run thing. “But, headmistress!” She widened her eyes and pitched her voice for nervousness. “That’s only a punishment for the older boys!” 

“You deserve it.” It was said fully in-role, with disgust, but, Anit was a girl of simple needs, ok, and being told her by her domme that she deserved a beating turned her cunt molten in a second. 

“Yes, headmistress,” she said hoarsely, and positioned herself over the desk. 

Khalila flipped her skirt up. Anit wriggled indignantly.

“You’re not supposed to hit students through just their underwear!”

“Oh, do be quiet, you awful child.” Khalila brought the tawse down, hard and without warning. Anit let herself yelp at it, and the several that followed. “Instead of making that ridiculous noise, you should be thanking me for being willing to put in the effort in teaching you the error of your ways.” 

“Thank you, headmistress,” Anit recited as the strap came down again, landing squarely on a previous hot spot. She gasped and let the pain flow through her like a gift.

The blows came harder now, over and over, until Anit could tell from the single heel tap she could hear that Khalila was stepping backwards and using her full arm to strike, until her arse felt like it was being branded and her cunt felt like a lake and she was no longer controlling the sounds that came out of her mouth. 

“Have you learnt your lesson?” Khalila sounded out of breath. 

“Fuck you, headmistress.”

“You disgusting, filthy, incorrigible child.” Khalila rested her hand on Anit’s arse, and pushed deliciously down between her legs, where the material was drenched. “You’ve ruined your underwear.” She stripped them off, hard, and left them around Anit’s knees.

Dario’s footsteps from the corner made Anit’s blood chill. No underwear. Dario delivering something. She knew what this was. She’d given Khalila free rein on when and how to bring this implement in. 

“Last chance, rat.” 

Anit tucked her face into her arms and took a deep breath in and out. Taking her silence as assent, Khalila brought the cane down with a crack.

Intellectually, she knew the blow wasn’t particularly hard. But her arse was raw and oversensitive and her brain was hard-wired to hate the mere shape of the cane on her skin, and so she screamed all the air out of her lungs and gasped it back in again like she was dying.

Immediately Khalila’s hand was on her shoulder. Khalila-as-Khalila, now. “Tap check, Anit.”

Obediently she raised one hand to the side, opened her fist wide and waved the fingers. No tap needed. 

Khalila chose to slow down despite Anit saying she was fine. She spent time squeezing Anit’s hot, stinging arse cheeks - the line of the welt a raw, slicing spot. Anit shifted her hips restlessly, which made her clit sing. 

“Got no stamina, headmistress?” she demanded. It would have sounded better if she could string more than two syllables together per panting breath.

“I have enough stamina left for four more, Anit. I trust you can count to four?” Headmistress tone, but Khalila’s words. Giving her the limit. The target. 

“Thank you, headmistress.” She buried her head back in the crook of her arms. 

The next crack of the cane was only slightly less of a shock, a blazing snap that shoved Anit into another helpless cry.

“Naughty girl,” snapped Khalila-the-headmistress, but Anit took comfort from the “Good girl,’ she could hear underneath it. It made it easier to relax and to breathe into the next stroke. To let the pain lift her out of herself until she soared. 

She’d lost all sense of the rest of her body by the time Khalila put her hand on the small of her back and said, “I hope you’ve learnt your lesson about disobedience in my school.” 

“Mm.” It was taking all her energy just to stop herself from sliding off the desk. Khalila must have spotted this, because she braced her hip against the back of Anit’s thigh. It tugged at the deliciously painful skin of her arse, and she whimpered in response.

Everything was a little distant. A little far away. 

“Santiago! Come here and help me deal with this pathetic mess of a girl.” 

“Yes, headmistress.”

Dario took hold her carefully and swung her upright, holding her tightly against him. She could feel his erection. The material of his trousers was torturous on her arse, where he hadn’t flipped her skirt back down. 

“What_ do_ you look like, girl?” Khalila’s voice was quiet, now. Not as sharp, but no less intense. 

Anit tried to gather her thoughts and imagine what Khalila was seeing. The buttons had all burst or slipped out of the holes on her shirt while she writhed on the little desk, and it hung uselessly open, exposing her tits. She was still wearing her skirt, but had no underwear on underneath it. 

“Sorry, miss.” Her voice was soft and slurred. Headmistress was too many syllables. She tried to raise her head to meet Khalila’s eyes, and shuffled her feet anxiously. They skated over the ground. Were they holding her up? She wasn’t sure.

“Ssh,” Dario whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you. Relax.” Then he raised his voice to normal levels, pitched a little high with worry. “What’s wrong with her, headmistress?”

“She’s a degenerate, Santiago. She _enjoyed_ herself. See?” Without warning, Khalila pushed her hand between Anit’s legs. 

Well. Less push, more … glide. 

Because Khalila was a bitch, she kept her fingers right away from Anit’s throbbing clit. _If I had more energy, I’d make you regret that_, Anit tried to transmit through her eyes. Khalila made eye contact and a look of satisfaction flashed across her face.

Absolute _bitch_. 

Khalila held up her shining fingers and separated them slightly so that they could all see the viscous cling. 

“I trust you recognise this, Santiago.”

“Um. Yes, headmistress.”

Khalila wiped her wet fingers on Anit’s stomach. “Such a stupid, reckless little girl, to let yourself get to this state.” 

Anit flapped weakly at the damp patch on her skin. “Get off.”

“Look at you.” Khalila’s dropped had dropped to a very specific cadence, and Anit felt Dario’s cock twitch at it. Her storytelling voice, he called it. “So foggy and muddled you can’t even stand up on your own. So vulnerable.” 

Khalila took the weight of one of Anit’s tits in her hand. “Just stood here in front of me with your breasts exposed. You’re not even ashamed, are you? Or maybe you are, and you can’t quite make your mouth work to tell me. Just hanging there like a little puppet.”

As it so happened, Anit was actually starting to pull herself back together a little. She wasn’t Dario, she didn’t stay up in the air for long without something keeping her there. But they’d agreed this beforehand, and it was so rare that Khalila allowed herself to indulge in her dark fantasy of molesting someone entirely helpless that there was no way Anit was spoiling it. 

Plus, it really wasn’t a hardship to moan a little and let her head bob as Khalila played with her tits. Never quite hard enough for Anit’s satisfaction, though, just slow, firm touches and squeezes. 

“Do you like me touching you like this?” Khalila moved one hand onto Anit’s cunt, and fuck, there was nothing fake about the moan that produced. “Oh, you do. Good. Ssh. Good girl. I’ll take care of you.”

Except she _still _wasn’t touching Anit’s clit. Why did she insist she wasn’t sadistic? This was definitely torture. 

She let a little of her need come out between gritted teeth as a groan, and pushed up against Khalila’s hand. 

“Hush, now.” Khalila drove three fingers inside Anit and curled them. 

Anit made an unholy noise and flushed hot from head to toe. Almost an orgasm. _Almost_. 

“Such a noise you’re making. People will come looking. And then they’ll see you like this, all splayed out. Wanton. Helpless.” 

Khalila’s voice was thick and low with her arousal, and Anit had absolutely expected to be pushed to the floor and ridden, or ‘forced’ between her legs by now, but clearly Khalila was improvising again. 

“Anyone could come by. Do anything to you. Santiago could put himself inside you right now, and you couldn’t resist. Aren’t you lucky it’s only me?”

She leaned in close, pressing herself hard against Anit. She felt like a fire, Anit thought dizzily, like a whirlpool. Irresistible. 

“Beg for me, gorgeous girl, and I’ll let you climax.”

The whisper – the core of Khalila’s preferred dominance – echoed round Anit’s head and lifted her brain another inch or two back into the clouds. 

“An’ what if … what I _don’t _beg,” she said, for appearances’ sake. 

Khalila kissed her cheek, so gently. “Would you like to find out?”

Anit shook her head. The world swirled around her. 

“Please,” she whispered. 

Then Khalila pinched her clit, hard, at the same time as raking her nails along Anit’s arse, and Anit came so hard that she lost herself. 

She stirred to the sound of Khalila’s aroused little moans. She could feel Khalila’s hand, clinging to her thigh like it was a handle, and that should probably hurt except that her entire body felt like goo. But that was the only place she was being touched. What?

It took her another moment to realise that she wasn’t standing anymore either, but lying down. 

A moment or two more, and she had the whole picture. She was sprawled on her stomach on the big desk at the front of the room, covered loosely by Dario’s jacket. Khalila was stood next to her with her voluminous skirt hiked to her waist and Dario was knelt between her legs. 

Anit pillowed her head on her arms and watched them carry on with sleepy envy. She’d love to swap places with … well, with either of them. 

Khalila came again with a lovely squeal, then dragged Dario to his feet and kissed him and pulled his erection free. 

“Good boy,” she whispered, stroking him hard and fast. “Well done.” He came within seconds, and clung to her while she nibbled his neck and whispered endearments in Arabic. 

“Well, that was pretty,” Anit said, then coughed at a mildly scratchy throat. They turned in unison, and she realised that for a brief moment they’d forgotten where they were. They were cute like that. 

“Are you all right?” It was always a nice mental switch, seeing Khalila all soft and concerned like this when she’d been playing such a different role. 

“Mm.” Anit yawned. “Very good. Could do with a drink, though.”

“Of course.” Khalila bent down and rummaged in her bag. “Here.” She handed Anit a flask, and stroked her hair. 

Anit gulped most of the water down in one go, which, after a relieving moment, made her feel chilly and nauseous. She burrowed her face into the crook of her arm and tried to breathe through it. 

“You absolute idiot.” That was Dario’s voice, and he whisked the flask from her loose grip. 

“Last night you tried to stand up before you were ready and fell full length onto the bedroom floor,” Khalila retorted. She stroked Anit’s back in comforting circles. “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

Anit nodded. Possibly. She definitely thought about nodding.

“Flower, she can hardly debrief right now.”

“_Right_.” 

At Khalila’s tone, Anit cracked one eye open. Fuck the nausea, and the way she still felt kind of like everything was happening through glass. She needed to see this. 

Khalila put a hand on Dario’s chest and walked him backwards into the nearest wall, shoving him the last inch with her full body weight. Then he bent down, aided by her hand clawed into his hair, and she stretched up to kiss him.

(She was a foot shorter than Dario, it looked hilarious, but hey, Anit thought, it worked for them.)

The room was quiet and Anit was _frantically _trying to eavesdrop, so she thought she probably caught most of it: 

“Are you telling me what to do, my darling?”

“No, I-”

“Because I definitely just heard an implicit and then an explicit criticism from you. Are you making the decisions now? Would you_ like_ to make the decisions, Dario?”

“No!”

“Is it at all sensible of you to make blindingly obvious comments at this point in a scene?”

“No.”

She stepped back and clicked her fingers, and Dario slithered down the wall so that she could dive on top of him and kiss him hungrily. 

Anit grinned to herself. That was generally how it worked. Khalila would use whichever one of them hadn’t been the focus on the scene to work off any overwhelming toppy urges. Dario had provoked it deliberately, which was interesting. 

She let herself start dozing. They’d finish at some point.

Khalila’s hand on her shoulder roused her. It also gave her goosepimples. It had gotten cold somewhere along the way. 

“Anit, lovey, can I just …” 

Reluctantly, Anit opened her eyes and raised her head and helped Khalila slither her into a long fur-lined robe. 

“Is that better?”

“Mm.” Anit snuggled into the warmth. It wasn’t quite as good as being sandwiched between the two of them in bed, but it would do. 

“Don’t go back to sleep.” Khalila was still stroking her hair, which really wasn’t helpful. “We’ve only got another half an hour booked and I need to tidy up.” She handed Anit a dried date bar.

Anit yawned and rubbed her face. “I’m fine. Go tidy.”

Khalila took a bit of convincing, but away she went in the end. 

“Are you sure you’re all right? That was intense.” Dario’s pupils were blown, and he was speaking carefully. 

For fuck’s sake. He had some weird type of psychological subspace that he could just fall into with the gentlest of pushes. She was so jealous.

Anit rolled her eyes at him, and tried to wake herself up. “You think a fucking flogger is intense, my li’l porcelain.” She wiped a clumsy hand across his face, and giggled when he tried to nibble it. “Fucking cane, though.”

“Yes,” Khalila’s voice made them both twitch, “that scream scared the living daylights out of me, Anit.”

“Sorry.” That was going to be an exhausting debrief, later. “It was just a lot. A _good_ a lot.”

“Because _that’s_ a sentence.”

“Fuck off, Dario.”


End file.
